


Dean - 19

by phantisma



Series: Ages [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cutting, Incest, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-01
Updated: 2006-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Dean's POV.  When Dean is 19, things change for him yet again.  A vision shared sends Sam and Dean back to Janet and Jenny, while the pain of the vision, and subsequent drug use and drugged behavior push Dean a little closer to the edge of reason and up against the wall of truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean - 19

On his 19th birthday, he waited impatiently for his father and Sam outside some truck stop, leaning against the Impala. He was somewhere outside of Tulsa, seven months after his father had grabbed them. Three of those months had been spent fighting the urge to run, to go back to what they had, to return to therapy and medication and pretending that all of the nightmares were nothing more than delusions, that the visions were just hallucinations brought on by migraines.

Twice he’d gotten as far away from Bobby’s house as the nearest emergency room. He’d sat outside it for three hours the first time. The second time was even longer, but he wasn’t sure how long. All he knew is that his hand found the knife under his seat and two swift, shallow cuts later, he was tearing out of town and headed back to Bobby’s.

The third time he’d left Bobby’s, it was to drive north three towns to call Janet. That was the fourth month. It was his second call. The first had been a few days after they’d run, when he was finally strong enough to stand on his own in the phone booth while his father fueled the Impala.

He’d planned on telling her some story, but just the sound of her voice was enough to bring the truth out of him. He’d fallen back into old apologetic tones so easily. She’d cried, asked to talk to Sam. He’d apologized, told her that they would be fine. When it was over, Dean had felt like an evil person, and in the dirty men’s room of the gas station he’d retched and with shaky hands sliced into his thigh.

The second call didn’t lead to cutting, he hadn’t said anything…her voice filled his ear and he shook his head. He wanted to apologize, he wanted her to beg him to come home…he wanted to save her…from the demon…from himself.

Sam and their father had left him two months before, supposedly on a series of hunts. Dean was working hard to get his body back in shape, but the drugs and the withdrawal and the months of being unable to do anything had taken a toll. Sam had been all too eager to go, not that Dean could blame him. He hadn’t exactly made things easy on his little brother.

He’d told Sam he wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t entirely the truth. He’d said he forgave him, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. He did…he understood…but Sam didn’t, not really. He didn’t realize what his childish self preservation had cost his brother. Sam would never fully understand what the combination of self-doubt, medication and the visions and nightmares had done to him. Dean wasn’t really sure that he even fully understood it all himself.

He’d had a lot of time to think about it though…time enough to think about all of it. His father’s truck pulled in next to him and Sam was out of the cab and wrapping his arms around Dean before he could even stand up properly. “I got him, Dean! A werewolf!” Sam whispered fervently and John was beaming as he came around the truck.

“Your brother’s a good shot. He got the bastard with one.”

Dean forced a smile, and hugged Sam, carefully reassuring, because he could already see the look in his eyes, the need to know Dean wasn’t angry, that Dean was okay. As he released Sam, Dean hitched a thumb over one shoulder at the line up of cars in front of the diner. “We probably don’t want to stay here. Too many cops.” He ruffled Sam’s hair. “Sam’s still listed as an endangered runaway.

John nodded. “Wasn’t planning on staying. There’s a witch in Lubbock that needs looking to.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah…whatever. Anything’s better than another day at Bobby’s.”

John grinned. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a good man who was getting very tired of my moping around his place. There’s only so much tinkering you can do on a car before you go crazy.”

“Let me gas up. You can follow me.”

Dean nodded, then flicked his gaze at Sam who was watching him. “You want to ride with me?”

Sam’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Get your gear.”

 

 

“I missed you.” Dean said when they’d been on the road nearly an hour.

Sam looked at him like he was going to cry. “Yeah?”

“Don’t go getting all girly on me, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean watched the back of their father’s truck, then glanced aside at his brother. “So…a werewolf?”

Sam blinked back the tears and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. It was something.”

“Just promise me you’ll always be careful, okay?”

“You sound like Dad.”

Dean snorted and followed his father off the back road they’d been following and onto a four lane highway. “I worry.”

“I know.”

They were quiet then for a while. “I worry too.” Sam said after a while, turning in the seat to look at Dean. “Are you…” He sighed and shook his head. “How are you, really?”

Dean took a deep breath and held it for a minute before exhaling and glancing aside. “I’m…better, Sam. I’m getting used to…things…without…I’m remembering who I am…who I was before.”

“What about the visions?” Sam rubbed at his own temples.

“I’ve had a few…nothing really concrete…faces I don’t recognize."

“Yeah. Me too.” He shifted in his seat. “Do they always hurt like that?”

Dean shook his head. “Sometimes they don’t hurt until they’re over. Sometimes I can feel them coming.” Dean sighed and tried to relax. “They’re stronger when I’m with you…or Dad…well, all aside from that first one.”

“The day I turned 11?” Sam asked. Dean sensed a change in him, but couldn’t place exactly what it was.

“Yeah. I was on my way to get Cassie. It slammed into me hard.”

Sam was very still, very quiet. “Sam?”

“Do you remember the night you took me to the hospital? When I was so sick?” Sam’s voice was small, trembling and it made Dean’s breath catch in his chest.

“Yeah, of course. It was the night everything changed.”

Sam nodded. “More than you know.”

“What?” Dean glanced at him again, and Sam had drawn his long legs up to his chest, his feet on the dash board. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Pull over.”

“What?” He was sounding like a broken record.

“Just…pull over Dean. I don’t want to do this like this. I want…Fuck. Just do it.”

Dean put on the brakes and edged off the road, knowing their father would see they weren’t behind him and circle back around. Dean was out of the car and opening Sam’s door before Sam had pulled his feet down. Sam turned to face him as Dean squatted beside him. “What are you trying to say to me, Sam?”

He looked like he might cry…or maybe hurl. “When I…I guess I was…with the fever…and I was alone, it was just me and the doctor…I saw…” He closed his eyes. “Even now it sounds insane.”

Dean tried to be patient, taking Sam’s hands in his and breathing deeply. “You know I won’t think that.”

Sam nodded and swallowed. “The doctor…he wasn’t the doctor for a while…his eyes were strange and his voice was different…I was scared…not just of him…I thought I was going to die.”

“Are you saying he was possessed?”

Sam shrugged and pulled his hands free to run through his hair. “I don’t know, exactly.” He sighed. “He told me I was special, and that’s why I was sick…He said I had gifts…” He drew in a deep, ragged breath. “But I didn’t have to have them. I could…I could give them away.”

He wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes, his gaze locked on his lap, on their hands twined together. Dean shifted, dropping one knee to the gravel. He could hear their father’s truck approaching. When the truck door opened and his father’s boots hit the gravel, Dean held up a hand to hold him off. “Sam?” Dean’s hand dropped, cupped to Sam’s face. “Hey, look at me.”

Sam’s eyes came up slowly. “Is this why…” He couldn’t finish the question, it was too accusatory and Sam was so close to broken already. “Come here.” He tugged Sam into an embrace, holding him while he shook. “You were 8, Sam. And…if that was what I think it was…god…just surviving…”

“I didn’t know Dean. I didn’t know you’d get it. I—he—it told me we’d be…I’d be safe…” Sam spoke into Dean’s neck and Dean’s hands stroked his back like he had when they were little.

“Its okay, Sam…its okay.”

“No…its all my fault.” He pushed back, away from Dean. “That was why when I saw George, I…I couldn’t believe it…because it wasn’t supposed to happen. It made everything too real.”

Dean felt the last of his feelings of betrayal washing away. He couldn’t blame the boy, he couldn’t fault a scared 8 year old, not when it was his fault for leaving Sam alone in a place like that…for taking him there in the first place. “Not your fault Sam. We don’t need to place blame….we just need to…figure out what to do from here.”

Sam snuffled a little, rubbed his nose on his jacket. “I’m not finished.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Go on then.”

“If I gave them away, and you have them…and they get stronger all the time…why do I still have them too?”

Boots on gravel grabbed both of their attention and they looked up. “You boys okay?” John asked, his hands in his pockets.

Dean nodded slowly and stood up. “Yeah, I think so Dad.” He looked to his father, but didn’t know what to say.

Sam stood up too, wiping his hands against his thighs. “I just needed to talk to Dean, Dad. It’s okay.”

“Why don’t we get a room, stop for the night?” John said. “There’s a motel a few miles up ahead. You boys can get some time together, and we’ll hit the road in the morning.”

“Yeah, good.” Dean ran a hand over his face, then headed back to his door. “I’m starving.” He grinned at Sam over the roof of the Impala and Sam chuckled. “And Goliath here needs to eat to support that enormous body.”

 

Three miles outside of Lubbock, Dean felt it coming. It was going to be a bad one. He flashed his lights at his father and guided the Impala off the road. Sam was asleep beside him, but his head tossed. Dean put the car in park and got out, hoping to keep from waking Sam as it slammed into him. The pain lanced into his head, between his eyes. His feet stuttered on the wet grass and he grabbed at the Impala to keep from landing on his ass.

He never heard his father’s approach, but felt his hands on his as Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe through it. Faces swirled around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck!”

“Dean!” His father’s voice was distant, and he tasted copper as he bit his tongue. Dean took a deep breath and tried to relax, to let the images come. “Tell me what you’re seeing.”

Dean nodded, grimacing. “Yeah…Demon…fuck…two. Jenny. It’s still going after them. Its…moving fast…looking…” The whole thing was confusing. The images were scattered, disjointed. Then he felt Sam’s hand slip into his and everything seemed sharper, clearer. Dean rode through it, feeling Sam there, _right there_ , nearly inside him. As it passed, Dean pulled Sam closer and opened his eyes.

“We have to go back.”

“Dean.” His father’s voice told him he didn’t think going back was an option.

“Dad, there are two demons. We’re caught in the middle of something. They’re going to keep killing until they get what they want.”

“What do they want?”

Sam and Dean looked at one another. Dean wasn’t sure about the particulars, but one thing was certain…what they wanted was everything Dean was holding on to…his sanity, his family…everything. “Us. I’m not sure, but at least one of them is after me…not just me…Its complicated.”

“Why go back? Why do you want to go toward them?”

“Jenny.” Sam said, looking up. “She doesn’t deserve…that.”

“If we get caught…”

Dean nodded. “I know.”

“Sam?” John looked at him. If they got caught it was Sam who’d it hit the hardest. He was only fourteen, he’d end up back in foster care, alone. If he didn’t end up somewhere worse. Dean didn’t want to think about what would happen to him or their father.

Sam nodded slowly. “We have to.”

John took a deep breath. “Okay. We go.”

 

Dean slipped into bed beside Sam after his shower, his boxers sticking to his still damp skin. He could see his father’s silhouette through the window. He was smoking and drinking, and Dean knew he wasn’t happy.

Sam wasn’t really asleep, but dazed and lightly drugged out from the pain meds Dean had insisted he take, even though he hadn’t taken any himself. Sam turned toward him, reaching out to him as Dean settled in under the sheet. “Dean,” he murmured, his hand rubbing over Dean’s arm as he snuggled in close. “I missed you.”

Sam settled his head on Dean’s pillow, his eyes half lidded and dark. “Love you so much.”

“Yeah Sam, I know.” Dean could feel Sam’s breath on his face and Sam’s hand had moved off his arm to press lightly on his chest.

“My Dean.” Sam mumbled and Dean chuckled.

“Go to sleep Sammy, the drugs are getting to you.”

“Don’ wanna.” His words slurred a little as his eyes opened wider. “Need you…need to feel you.”

“You what?” Dean pulled back, but Sam’s hand was moving again, over the flat of his stomach, the curve of his hip. “Sam? What the fuck?”

“Wanna touch my Dean.” Sam leaned in closer and for a minute Dean was afraid he was going to try to kiss him. Dean cut him off by lifting a hand to wipe the hair out of his eyes.

“No touching,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

“Want.”

“No.”

Sam’s legs moved restlessly and Dean suddenly recognized the movement. His stomach lurched as he realized what his brother wanted…what he wanted Dean to do. Dean shook his head. “No, Sam. No.”

“Want.” Sam managed to toss a leg over Deans, pulling their bodies closer until Dean could feel the hard length of Sam’s dick pressed against his leg. “Want. Want…Please…Dean…”

Sam rutted himself against Dean’s leg and Dean couldn’t move. It was wrong, it was more wrong than any of the other fucked up wrong things in his life and he couldn’t move. His eyes stayed glued on the back of his father’s head in the window and he lay still with one hand cradling his head and the other on Sam’s shoulder while Sam fucked himself on Dean’s leg.

Sam panted and twitched and came in his shorts, his eyes rolling closed as the tension drained from his body. Shaking, Dean pulled himself out of bed and paced between the bathroom door and the table where their bags rested.

His head chattered at him, Dr. MacAfferty’s words echoing in his head. She had warned him that Sam’s worship of him, his unquestioning devotion would ultimately be bad for both of them. He’d never thought…not his baby brother…not his Sammy…

Dean stopped at the end of the bed and looked at his brother…really looked at him. Sam was fourteen, certainly not a child anymore. These last months with their father had filled him out, he was broader now at the shoulders and his face had lost a lot of the baby fat. He wasn’t a kid anymore…  
He sighed and turned away. His father was looking in, a question in his eyes. Dean shook his head. He didn’t want to deal with any of this. He wanted it all to go away…Breathing heavily, Dean grabbed at his bag and went to the bathroom, closing and locking the door.

Before, moments like this would drive him to Tony…to be fucked senseless, to be bruised and broken and bled until his whole world went white and the sharp edge of pain brought life back into him…to be given the space where he didn’t have to think, only do…where orders were given and he could follow them unquestioning…and the pain bled into pleasure and out again…

His breath came in short pants as he sat on the toilet, the blade from his bag resting lightly on his thigh. The last scab was gone, healed…a thin white line amidst other thin white lines. The blade was sharp, it’s tip digging lightly into his skin as he dragged it over the bumpy surface, over the marks of other nights…If he cut…just a little…he could breathe again for a little while…pretend again.

His cock was hard and he let it out of his boxers, stroking it with his free hand while the knife danced in the other. He could still feel the wet spot where Sam’s come had seeped through his boxers onto his leg. The thought should have repulsed him. Instead, he trace the outline with the tip of the knife, leaving a sort of dry scratch to mark the place.

His hips rocked a little, pumping himself into his fist. Tony always knew just how to touch, how to hurt…and Dean missed that…missed the feeling of his thick fingers pressing against an aging wound, bringing blood to the surface…He gasped as the blade bit into him, stroking harder. It wasn’t enough. The dry pull, the sting as blood pooled along the tender skin…it wasn’t nearly enough.

Dean strangled a cry of desperation, and jumped when his father knocked at the door. “Dean?”

“I’m…fine.” Dean said, knowing he sounded a lot less than fine.

“Let me in.”

“No…no…I’m fine.” Dean panted, the knife sliced a little deeper and then he lost his grip on it. It clattered to the floor and John pounded again.

“Open the door Dean.”

Dean closed his eyes and willed his body to finish,…just fucking finish…The blade was back in his hand, and the door was crashing open and his father was hauling him up. John caught Dean’s wrist as the knife moved back to his thigh and they struggled for a minute. “Please…please…”John squeezed and the knife fell and Dean cried out.

His hand dragged over his cock even as John tried to hold him. “Dean, come on. Snap out of it.”

“Need to…just…just…please…” Dean caught John’s hand this time and pressed it to the deepest of his wounds, pressed inward and lurched forward into the pain. His shoulder leaned into the strong chest of his father as the pain pushed him over the edge and he groaned, spilling come onto the tile floor, just missing his father’s boots.

Dean’s knees were like water as he sank back to a seat on the toilet, his eyes unfocused. He was vaguely aware of his father picking up the knife, of bandages being applied, but his next real thought came as he was settling into the bed with Sam. He looked up, but his father’s back was to him. “I’m sorry.” He watched John’s body tense at the sound of his voice.

“Get some sleep Dean. We have a long drive tomorrow.”

“Dad?”

John shook his head before turning out the light. “Tomorrow.”

 

 

Dean was awake first the next day, dressed and out the door before either his father or brother woke up remembering the fucked up disaster of the night before. Maybe if he came back with coffee and breakfast they could all forget. Just fucking forget.

By the time he came back, Sam was in the shower and John was cleaning guns. “I got food.” Dean tossed the bag on the table in front of his father and retreated to the bed with his coffee. The silence there in the room was painful. John concentrated on his task, Dean on his coffee and the only sound was the water running in the bathroom.

Suddenly, John turned to him, glanced at the bathroom door and back to Dean. “How’s your leg?”

Dean froze, then slowly lowered his coffee cup. “Fine, Dad.”

John nodded. “The next time you feel like hurting yourself, say something. I can’t help you if I don’t know something’s wrong.”

Dean lowered his eyes, his face flushed with embarrassment, with knowing his father had seen him like that…that he had done that to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t…” He bit his lip. “It…fuck.” He took a drink from his cup and tried to hide by raising his knees and planting his feet on the bed.

“I’m not going to draw it out or make you talk about it. I just…want you to trust me, Dean.”

The bathroom door opened and Sam emerged. Dean nodded in answer to his father and looked up at Sam. Sam’s eyes got wide and he looked away. So, not forgetting. Dean sighed. “Yeah…right.” For someone who had always thought family was everything, Dean couldn’t figure out how they had gotten to this place.

John looked at them both, then arched an eyebrow at Dean who shook his head. “Eat.” Dean said, gesturing at the bag. “I’ll pack us up.” He left the room and the tension building up in it. He settled his duffle bag in the trunk of the Impala and took a few deep breaths.

The door opened and Dean turned away from it. “Dean, we should—“

“Don’t want to talk, Dad.”

“Didn’t ask you to.” John shut the door and stepped out into the gravel, his boots grinding in the loose rock. “Is something wrong between you and Sam?”

Dean’s lip curled and he shook his head, moving to keep the car between him and his father. “No. Sam…just…said some stuff while he was sedated last night. He probably got embarrassed. Didn’t want him to worry about it.”

John nodded and stopped his progress. “Dean. Come here.”

Dean shook his head. “With all respect. I don’t think so.”

“I’m not angry.”

“I am.”

“With me?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No. With myself. I thought…I was past that…all that…and what I did…I don’t even know how to apologize.”

“Don’t. I’m the one who should apologize, Dean. For not seeing the stress, for not realizing you needed something.”

“God, Dad. You’re not a superhero.”

“Neither are you.” Suddenly John was right beside him, holding his shoulders and looking down at him with a fierce expression he couldn’t interpret. “You need to ask for help when you need it Dean.”

Dean felt himself flush, felt his body fill with adrenaline. His father’s hand cupped his face. “I love you Dean. I love you and I’m here to give you anything you need.” John’s hand slipped to the back of his neck, tugging a little on the short hairs to get Dean’s attention. “Look at me.”

Dean’s whole body tensed, his cock half hard, reacting to the tone, to the order. His eyes met those of his father. “Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, Dad.” Dean’s response was breathy.

“I’m not sure you do, Dean.” John’s tone was careful. He licked his lips. “If you need…this…” His hand pressed against the bandages on Dean’s thigh, “…you come to me. I don’t want you doing it to yourself. Is that clear?”

Dean’s eyes rolled closed as his father’s fingers found the thin line under the thick bandages and pressed inward. His cock hardened and Dean pulled away. “Yeah…okay…I get it…”

“Good. Why don’t you see if you can help your brother.”

Dean nodded tightly and willed his erection away. His sex life wasn’t screwed up enough that he had to add his father and brother into the craziness? He blew out a breath and headed back into the room. “You riding with me or Dad?” he asked as Sam jumped up, grabbing at his bag.

“Uh…maybe Dad wants some company?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah he might. You got everything?”

Sam nodded and started past him. Dean stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “We’re okay, okay?”

Sam looked at him with wide eyes and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Dean smiled for him, his best, cocky big brother smile. “If we push we could get there tomorrow night.”

“Then what?”

Dean grabbed for his father’s bag and clapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “I have no idea.”

Sam grinned. “Well, now I’m confident.”

 

That night when Sam had fallen asleep sprawled across the width of the bed, Dean crawled in beside his father. He’d forgotten how exhausting it could be to drive for 10 hours. He was asleep quickly, and he fell into dreams of his father’s hands and blood on his skin. He woke in the deep dark that only comes after midnight. Sam’s snores drifted softly over to him. He could feel the warmth of his father’s body, John’s arm cast casually over his stomach. Dean took a deep breath and shifted, then froze, realizing John was awake, and hard, his cock pressed against Dean’s ass.

There was no way he could go back to sleep, or pretend. The dreams rushed into him and John’s hand moved, down between his legs. “Dean.” His voice was low, rumbling into Dean’s stomach. Dean exhaled and moved, just enough, rubbing himself against the cock touching his ass. A soft moan escaped him and he closed one hand over his father’s, gripping his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers. Together they stroked Dean’s cock slowly, their breathing syncing up as John rubbed himself against Dean to the same rhythm.

Dean stole a glance across to the other bed, but Sam’s back was to them. He closed his eyes then and tried not to think. It was frustrating…he needed more…he wanted…he shifted again, letting go of the hand stroking him and snaking his hand behind him to tug at his boxers. As he got them down over the curve of his ass, he felt John hesitate. “Need it.” Dean whispered, already ashamed of himself, but no more able to stop now than he had been the night before.

He palmed his father’s cock roughly, guiding it toward his opening. John’s hand moved between them stroking over Dean’s ass and squeezing. “Lube?” It was barely mouthed and Dean rolled so that he was on his stomach, shaking his head and lifting his ass toward him. “God, Dean.”

Dean groaned low and long as he felt the cock enter him. He was thicker than Tony, and it burned…it burned and hurt and Dean could almost come just like that…almost. He knew John was trying to be careful, but he didn’t want careful. He pushed himself back into him, hard…and pulled forward again. “Hard…please…please.” Dean’s words might have been lost to the pillow he was holding, but John moved harder, laying heavy on top of Dean as he thrust into him and Dean’s hand slipped under him to squeeze his own cock.

John’s hands on his hips were bruising, then one slipped down to Dean’s thigh, under the bandages, pressing in on angry flesh and Dean bucked under him. “Fuck!” he bit into the pillow and when John did it again, timing his inward thrust to coincide with his stroking of the wound, Dean came, spilling himself out onto his hand and the bed. He squeezed his ass around his father…pushed back onto him hard. “Please…please…please.” Dean whispered it needy and raw and it was enough.

John collapsed beside him, sweaty and apprehensive. Dean smiled sleepily at him. “Its okay…I’m okay.”

John ran a hand over his face and nodded. “Yeah…me too.”

Dean was pretty sure it was a lie, but he was already nearly asleep and could only nod. He felt his father leave the bed, heard the sound of the shower. If he heard crying, he wouldn’t admit it.

John was the first one up and out the next morning, leaving Dean to wake up to Sam sitting on the bed staring at him. “Sam?”

“We still okay, Dean?”

“Yeah, golden, why?”

Sam pouted at him. “You didn’t ask me to ride with you…and I noticed you didn’t sleep with me either.”

“Dude, you were talking up the whole bed.”

Sam looked shy for a long moment, then raised his green eyes to Dean’s. He was serious and his eyes burned into Dean. “Is that why you said no to me, and begged him for more?”

Dean choked and his head hit the wall behind him. “What?”

Sam’s hand came to rest on Dean’s knee and he scooted forward. “I heard you Dean. I heard the two of you.”

Dean pulled away and sat up, running his hand over his face. “Sam—“

“You want him, but not me.”

“God, Sam.” This conversation could go no where good. “I don’t _want_ either of you. This is so fucked up.” He took a deep breath and reached a shaky hand for Sam’s hand. “Listen to me. This is wrong…whatever it is…the whole thing…I’m messed up Sam. You don’t need to be messed up too.”

There were tears in Sam’s eyes when Dean looked up. “I dream about you. I…think about you…”

“Sam…Sam stop.” Dean pulled Sam’s hand up to his face, kissed it. “You’re too young to even know what you’re talking about.”

“I love you.”

Dean sighed. “I know, and I love you…more than you will ever know. But I can’t…I just can’t…” He held Sam’s hand and looked at him. “Not with you. Not with him. Not again. It was wrong.”

The door opened and John stood in the doorway looking at them. Sam pulled his hand free and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “You boys ready to get this done?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Let me catch a shower.”

“Hustle up. I want to get there before dinner. We need to get the lay of the land.”

 

It was weird driving into town, past the hospital, past places where they had spent so much time. Dean parked the Impala down the street and killed the engine. The house looked no different. Lights were on in the house, one upstairs in Jenny’s room, the other on the ground floor in the living room. John knocked on his window and Dean lowered the window.

“How do you want to do this?”

Dean shook his head. “Maybe I should try to talk to Janet. I’m not wanted for anything. She won’t call the cops.”

“I don’t know. If this thing, this demon is trying to use you and Sam…”

“Not yet. We have a few hours.” Sam said, his eyes glazed over, unsteady. “Tonight.”

Dean looked at him and nodded. “Yeah. Tonight.” He sighed. “You should take Sam, get a room at the motel up the road. Keep him…safe.”

Dean got out of the car and turned to Sam. “You gonna be okay?”

Sam nodded and Dean gave the keys to the car to his father. “I’ll meet you when I’ve talked to her.”

It wasn’t quite dark, but lights were on up and down the street as Dean approached the home he’d lived in for so many years. He hesitated on the porch, his hand poised over the door and he checked over his shoulder to see that the Impala was gone. He knocked three times and heard the television turn off. He took a deep breath and waited.

The door opened and he was face to face with Janet. “Hi.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, its me.” They stood and stared at one another for a minute. “Can I come in?”

She crossed her arms. “I don’t know. Are you…okay?”

He bit his lip. “Yeah, Janet. I’m better than I have been in a long time.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Not here. I wanted to see you first.”

She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I’m…not tonight Dean. Come back tomorrow.”

“Janet, we think…there could be…” Dean sighed. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but we think that you and Jenny are in trouble.”

“From what, Dean? Demons? Dr. MacAfferty warned me you might show up talking about that.”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll come by around noon.”

“Bring Sam.”

“Maybe. We’ll see. How is Jenny?”

Janet sighed again and leaned against the door. “She’s good. She misses you.”

“I miss her too.”

They didn’t look at one another for a few more minutes, then Dean turned to go. The vision hit him before he’d gotten two steps away, Sam’s face welling up in his, yelling, fighting, angry, afraid.

Dean grabbed for the railing and sank to the porch, holding his head. He heard Janet’s voice, but everything was going dark and Dean couldn’t breathe. The last thing he heard before everything went dark was Janet calling out to Sam.

 

Jenny was crying…Janet was nearby, but quiet. Dean’s head was pounding and he felt pinned. Dean opened his eyes slowly. Jenny was pinned to the wall across the room, her stomach bleeding. In front of her, Sam was kneeling, rocking, his arms wrapped around himself.

“Well, Dean. Its about time you came to. I was beginning to think I was going to have to deal with Sammy here.”

Dean’s eyes swung to look at the speaker. Green-gold eyes stared back at him from his father’s face. “You were both right when you said Sammy would host the demon that killed poor Jenny…but as you can see, that wasn’t the whole story.”

“Get out of my father you filthy sack of shit.” Dean pulled at the force the held him to the wall.

“Your gifts have gotten quite strong since you came of the drugs Dean. It’s a shame really, my son nearly had you.” His father’s face loomed large over him. “I gotta say though, I like your style…getting your old man to fuck you…that takes a special something, doesn’t it.”

He paced away, over to Sam. “My daughter though? She’s got a style all her own…weaseled her way into Sam here months ago and waited. She’s got more patience that one.”

“You want me, fine. Come and get me. Leave my family alone.”

“Dean?” Jenny’s voice ripped through him, her eyes eating the distance between them. “Please…”

Sam looked up, up at her, then at Dean, his eyes flashing angry and cold. He lunged for their father…for the demon in their father’s body and Dean instinctively lunged forward, nearly breaking free.

Then Sam was hanging in the air, clutching at his throat, and tossed aside, crashing into Jenny until they both lay broken and dead, staring up at Dean with accusations in their open, staring eyes. The demon laughed. Janet screamed. Dean shook.

“No! No! Sam…Sammy….no…” This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what the visions had showed him. This wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real.

“Oh, but it is.” John’s mouth pressed down on his, his tongue forcing its way inside his mouth. “All of it is real. And it can all be real forever…or…” He paced away, then turned. “Give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want…what your heart whispers to you when you’re alone and can’t sleep. I’ll make it all go away.”

Dean shook his head. “I will kill this body I’m in too, Dean. I’ll kill her.” He gestured to Janet, still huddled on the floor. “I’ll give this town over to my children and let the people of this town bleed the way Cassie bled.”

He came close again, his hand bruising against his face. “I’ve done all of this for you.”

“Why? Why me?”

“I like you Dean. You took gifts that weren’t yours to take. You swallowed down everything he gave you, even though it will kill you…you’re devoted. I need a guy like that on my side.”

“What is it you want?”

The smile on his father’s face was petrifying. “All you have to do, Dean, is never ever use them. Bury them under the drugs, lock yourself away. I don’t care what you do or how.”

“I don’t control them…they just come.”

“Like I said, don’t care what or how. I’m involved in war Dean. You have to choose a side. Its me or another like me. You know they won’t leave you alone. You can feel it.” His hands slithered over Dean, wringing sobs out of him as he stared in the cold dead face of his brother, his Sam.

“He’ll be alive?”

“Yes, Dean. Sam, Jenny, Janet. It will be like you never left.”

“And my father?”

“I’ll spare him as well. Memories clean, whole new ones even. No one will ever know.”

“If I refuse?” Dean was bluffing. He’d already made his choice. He already knew he’d take an eternity of drug induced normalcy with Sammy over any amount of lucid time without him.

“You all die…maybe I’ll fuck you first…you, and her…would you like that Dean?”

“Go to hell.”

His face leaned in close. “Got a summer home there…you should visit.”

Dean knew better than to make a deal with a demon. Then again, he was just crazy…the whole thing was just a delusion. He’d wake up in the hospital, medicated, slowly finding his way back to coherency to discover it was all just a really bad breakdown. He closed his eyes, forced them away from Sam, dead and bleeding. “Do it.”

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said do it, you sick fuck. Give me my life back. Give me my family back. Let my father go. I’ll stay on the meds. I’ll walk away.”

“You will never see your father again.” Dean nodded, his eyes still shut. “Then kiss reality goodbye Dean Winchester, your future is now.”


End file.
